


Wedding Day

by BirdOfHermes



Category: The Dresden Files - All Media Types, The Dresden Files - Jim Butcher
Genre: F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Slow Dancing, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Wedding, wedding nonsense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-05
Updated: 2016-03-05
Packaged: 2018-03-29 02:42:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3879103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BirdOfHermes/pseuds/BirdOfHermes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Karrin Murphy's worst nightmare is finally here. Harry accepts her invite to be her plus one at her little sister Lisa's wedding to her ex-husband Rich. But maybe it's not the train wreck they were both expecting. Sort of. Post Blood Rites, but pre-Changes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Thomas Raith was entirely accustomed to entering the apartment of his brother only to find him pacing or scrounging about his den looking for information pertaining to a case, but this morning was different. The den had been assaulted, by the looks of things: books stacked haphazardly on the coffee table or strewn about the couch or piled on the mantle above the fireplace, a pile of old coats occupying a good three feet of space on the loveseat, and boxes of various belongings crowding the floor. The vampire shut the door, locked it, and called into the dimly lit apartment.

“Uh, Harry? What’s with the mess?”

“I can’t find the goddamn thing!” the wizard’s voice answered, heated to the boiling point, and from a direction Thomas couldn’t immediately identify. Thomas took off his overcoat and scarf before following the thumping sound of things being tossed aside. He found his younger brother in the bedroom—also tastefully decorated in practically every item of clothing the man owned—on his knees in the closet, grumbling a thousand curse words a minute.

“Find what?”

“I had a bowtie. I know I had a bowtie. I just can’t find the stupid thing.”

Thomas crossed his arms, smirking. “What? No locator spell for that, O Great Gandalf?”

“Don’t be a smartass. Be a helpful smartass. Double check the dresser.”

Thomas snorted and kicked his brother’s ankle. “Since when am I your maid?”

Harry finally poked his head around the door, glaring daggers. “Thomas, she’ll be here any second. Would you shove the sarcasm and help for once?”

The White Court vampire fell silent, his grey eyes slightly wide as he noticed that Harry was wearing a black tuxedo, one that was actually designed for his impossibly tall frame, and his usually-messy hair was combed down and oiled a little, and he smelled just faintly of cologne. “Empty night, it’s _today?_ ”

“Yes, it’s today.”

“You ass,” Thomas growled. “Why didn’t you remind me? I’ve got a thousand  bowties at my place and I could have brought one with me.”

Harry scowled. “Your mouth is a recommended place to stick a sock. Now look.”

Thomas heaved a sigh, rolled one shoulder, and took a step forward. To the untrained eye, it looked as if he’d made one lazy movement, but Harry knew better. Thomas rarely had a reason to use his otherworldly speed for such mundane tasks, but at least he bothered to bend the rules. He held out the bowtie. Harry snatched it up and stood, brushing lint off his knees.

“Do I even wanna know where it was?”

Thomas shrugged. “Know how to tie it?”

Harry stared at the small black adornment. “Uh.”

Thomas rolled his eyes. “Down here, Lurch.”

Harry leaned in and Thomas started to fix it into a neat, perfect bow. “Nervous?”

“You’re kidding me, right? How many missions have we gone on by now? A thousand?”

“Missions are different. This is personal.”

“Done that before too.”

The vampire sighed. “Empty night, Harry. Just answer the question.”

“…a little bit,” Harry grumbled, avoiding eye contact. “Happy?”

Thomas tugged the bow tightly enough to elicit a little gagging sound out of his brother. “I’m not asking to rub it in your face. I’m just trying to see where your head is at. This is kind of a big deal.”

“It’s not. I swear. She just needs me there. For moral support.”

Thomas didn’t blink. “Mm-hmm.”

Harry felt his face heating up. “Let me find you a nice smelly sock to plug that leak in your face.”

Just then, he heard three short blasts of a car horn, sending electric shocks of cold anxiety straight up his spine. He cleared his throat and grabbed the packed suitcase from his bed. “You know the score with Mouse. Walk, feed, belly rubs, etcetera. I’ll be back tomorrow night.”

“Hopefully not,” Thomas said mildly, walking him to the door.

Harry paused in the doorway with a sneer and a raised fist, changing his voice to a thick growling accent. “One of these days. Pow! Right in the kisser.”

Thomas rolled his eyes. “Have fun at the wedding, nerd.”

He shut the door in Harry’s face. The wizard took a deep breath and headed down the driveway to where Karrin Murphy had parked. The trunk flew open and he popped the small suitcase inside before taking another deep, cleansing breath of the cold Chicago morning air and climbed in the passenger’s seat.

“Murph,” he said, adopting an easy smile.

“Dresden,” she said, expressionless. “You’re on time. I think there’s a defibrillator in the glove box that can restart my heart.”

“Hardy-har-har,” he replied, snapping on the seatbelt. “When’s your next standup? I’ll buy tickets and sit in the back so I can heckle you.”

She rolled her eyes, turning her head to watch for traffic as she backed out of the driveway. “What’s with the suit?”

Harry arched an eyebrow. “Uh, isn’t that required at a wedding?”

“It’s a five hour drive. Why do you think I’m not in my dress yet?”

He paused. “I…did not consider that.”

Her lips twisted with the effort not to smile. “Or you were thinking too much ahead. The wedding’s not until one o’clock. I’m dropping you off at your hotel anyway, so you can shower if you need to before we go. Get rid of any wizard funk.”

He made a scoffing noise. “I’ll have you know my wizard funk is top shelf. I sell a crate per day of the stuff.”

She shook her head, relaxing into her seat a bit as they merged with traffic, heading towards the interstate. A brief silence fell. “Are we really doing this?”

Harry glanced at her, softening his tone. “Doing what?”

“Cracking jokes the whole time.”

“That’s what I had planned. I wrote a script and everything.”

Murphy exhaled, long and slow. “Good. That’s what I wanted to hear. Thanks for doing this, Harry. I know it’s a pain-in-the-ass and I should be strong enough to get through it on my own and--”

“Forget it, Murph,” Harry said cheerfully, picking up the CD binder from her backseat. “This is just more ammo for me later when I need a horrible, embarrassing favor, as I am wont to do on occasion. Now who the hell is Vampire Weekend and which court are they from?”

 

* * *

 

Unfortunately, their luck ran out on account of a nasty accident on the interstate, delaying them the better part of an hour. Harry had to convince Murphy not to slap her magnetic siren on top of the car and pretend like there was an emergency, and as a result she let out enough curse words that he asked her if she was still actually Catholic.

“Can you blame me?” she growled, eying the clock. “I’m not going to have time to stop at my mother’s house to get all dolled up. And I still need to shower and dress.”

Harry shrugged. “Murph, I’m staying at the hotel where the reception is. Just borrow mine.”

She glanced at him with her cop face—unreadable yet suspicious. “What? You mean take turns?”

“As long as you’re not afraid of contracting cooties, yes.”

She scowled, tapping her fingers on the steering wheel. “That does cut down on travel time. Too bad you don’t know how to do makeup.”

“Yeah, we missed our chance to lug Thomas along with us for that. Besides, it doesn’t matter.”

“How so?”

Harry smiled. “You’ll still be the best looking one there, even without it.”

Silence fell. Murphy let out a soft, amused snort. “You’ve been waiting to say that all day, haven’t you?”

“Am I that transparent?”

“Like glass.” She squirmed in her seat. “But thank you anyway.”

“You’re welcome, dollface.”

“Pig.”

 

* * *

 

After an intensely awkward elevator ride and Harry dropping his hotel key card a couple times, they arrived in the room. Harry dumped his suitcase by the king-sized bed and carefully placed Murphy’s suitcase and suitbag—which he has wrestled out of her grip after they left the car, just to work her nerves—on the mattress before gesturing towards the bathroom.

“Ladies first.”

Murphy pursed her lips. “You were also waiting to say that too, huh?”

“You know me like the back of your delicate maiden hand.” She lightly kicked him in the shin and rustled through the suitcase for her undergarments. 

“I’ll be out in ten.”

“Mm-hmm.” She disappeared into the bathroom, the door locking behind her. Harry sighed and paced, trying to figure out how to occupy his time and not think about a dripping wet, freshly clean Karrin Murphy mere feet away from him. And his bed. In his hotel room.

“Hell’s bells, Harry,” he muttered. “It’s just Murphy.”

Thomas’ mocking voice asking, “Nervous?” rang through his head and he flopped onto the bed, squeezing his eyes shut and counting backwards from six-thousand to distract himself.

Precisely ten minutes later, Murphy emerged from the bathroom. Vapor spilled around her bare ankles, catching Harry’s eyes and forcing them to drag upward. Legs. Smooth, toned, creamy legs that he hadn’t seen since their horrible death-battle with Mavra. The halter dress was sectioned off in three colors: white from shoulders to chest, red at the hips, and black from the top of her thighs to just above her knee. It was form-fitting, but not skin-tight, allowing him a pleasant view of her gradual curves.  Her golden locks had been getting progressively longer, as if she’d been too busy to get them trimmed, and the slightly-curled-from-the-heat ends hung above her bare shoulders, a couple damp strands clinging to her forehead. Harry wanted to think he’d merely glanced at her when she opened the door, drawn to movement naturally—an old habit of a private investigator—but he knew full well he’d been staring at her for a generous dollop of seconds, his mouth watering slightly, to his embarrassment.

Strangely, she said nothing, her blue eyes coolly watching him watch her. Then it occurred to him what the sudden silence meant and he licked his lips before speaking. “Nice dress.”

“Thanks,” Murphy said in a curt voice, strolling over to the suitcase to put her driving clothes away, but he’d caught the subtle shift in her posture and the way her shoulders squared as if she’d been apprehensive about how she looked until his confirmation. Just like her. After all, someone once said 80% of all communication between men and women was body language, not words.

“Any cooties I need to worry about?” Harry asked after standing up.

“I was vaccinated as a child. You’re safe, I promise.” He grinned and disappeared into the bathroom, promising to be back in two shakes. Murphy stood in front of the mirror opposite the bed and put in her little ruby earrings. She leveled a glare at the makeup sticking out of the zipper pouch in her belongings and stomped over to it, grabbing eye shadow and eye liner.

True to his word, Harry’s shower wasn’t even ten minutes long. She was almost done with the eye liner when he suddenly poked his head out of the door, clearing his throat loudly.

“Uh. Murph?”

“Yeah?”

“I kind of forgot my…y’know, in my suitcase.”

She pressed her lips together, staring at his reflection in the mirror. “Your ‘you knows’? You’ve lost me.”

“Undergarments,” the wizard elaborated in an exasperated voice. “Can you hand them to me?”

Murphy tapped a fingertip against her chin. “Well, it’s _all_ the way over there, and I’m _all_ the way over here. You’re closer.”

Harry’s face reddened. “Seriously? You’re the one who said we’re short on time.”

Murphy just smiled. He heaved a sigh and opened the door all the way, striding the short distance to the bed in just a towel. She made a long wolf whistle as he went and he glowered.

“If I had done that, you’d kneecap me.”

“Female prerogative. Have to get back at the patriarch somehow.”

“Double standard,” he grumbled under his breath, stomping back to the bathroom while Murphy stifled a bout of giggles in her throat as she put the final touches on her makeup.

Harry reappeared a moment later, fully dressed in his tuxedo, tugging at his bowtie—which he hadn’t untied, merely slipped off—to tighten it, his dark gaze impatient. “Ready?”

“Yep.” Murphy slipped on her ridiculously uncomfortable high heels, grabbed her tiny decorative purse, and beckoned the wizard, who held the door open for her out of pure spite. They were in the elevator for a full thirty seconds before he broke, still scowling.

“You’re staring, Murph.”

She hid a smile. “You look nice, Harry.”

He shoved his hands in his pockets, finally relaxing a bit. “Women go crazy ‘bout a sharp-dressed man.”

She rolled her eyes. “Pig.”

“Oink, oink,” he said without missing a beat. “So, uh, should I be concerned about that awkward moment in all weddings when the pastor asks if anyone objects or…?”

Murphy crossed her arms, her countenance darkening. “Oh, believe me, those two deserve each other. Nothing to worry about.”

“And what about the reception? She ask you to do a speech?”

“No.”

Harry winced. “Is that good or bad?”

“Neither. It’s…Lisa. God forbid the spotlight hit anyone else.”

The doors opened and she stalked out into the lobby, her anger spreading through the air much like her perfume. Harry said nothing until they were once again in the car, speeding towards the church where Murphy and her family had grown up attending. He drummed his fingers on his knees, licking his lips.

“If you don’t mind me asking…why did you agree to come?" 

She exhaled, focusing on the road ahead as she smoothly weaved in between cars. “Because the only thing worse than going would be not going. It’d be a sign of weakness. She’d think I was jealous or something instead of pissed off, and I’d rather eat my gun than let her or Rich think I gave two shits about their relationship.”

“Don’t mean to point fingers, but that sounds kind of vindictive, Murph.”

She bared her teeth in somewhat of a smile. “Welcome to the Murphy family.”

He blew out a stream of air between pursed lips. “Boy, oh boy. Is the reception open bar?”

“Yep.”

“Thank God.”

The church was thankfully only fifteen minutes away. Cars crowded every available parking space, forcing them to park all the way in the grass at the rear of the estate and walk back. Murphy stumbled in her heels a couple times, prompting Harry to offer his hand. She glared daggers, and accepted the help anyway. Harry’s heart climbed up his esophagus and did the rumba as he spotted the guests filing into the cathedral. He’d seen the Murphy clan at a distance, and the thought of being up close and personal made him want to double back to the car. He felt Murphy’s digits growing just a bit colder and sweatier, so he squeezed her fingers and sent her a smile as they reached the doorway.

“You ready?”

“Hell no,” she breathed back. “Let’s get this over with.”

 

* * *

 

An hour and a half later, they were seated in front of Murphy’s engraved cream-colored place card, waiting for all the guests to filter into their seats before the reception would begin. Murphy sent Harry a look when she noticed him squinting at her.

“What?”

“Sorry, you rolled your eyes so many times during that ceremony that I was trying to make sure they didn’t fall out of your head.”

She smiled sweetly at him. “Would you like to know how many different ways I can kill a man using only a fork?”

“How about a drink?”

“Thank you.” He beat a hasty retreat to the bar at the center of the dining hall, digging his wallet out of his pocket. He slapped his ID down on the counter, smiling.

“Two beers, please.”

“Not a problem,” the bartender said, popping a couple bottles open. He nodded towards Harry’s table.

“Wife looks a little stressed. I can recommend a good white wine if she needs it.”

“She’s more of a beer kind of gal, but I’ll tell her.”

“Yeah. Let me know. I’ve tended my share of these things. You find out a lot about a person when you attend a wedding with them.”

Harry paused. “How so?”

“Well, the relationships between the family members is obvious, but how much they drink, what they wear, what present they bring, and if they do a speech says a lot. Hell, it’s ten times more stressful to go to one of these things than to get married, you ask me. Especially if you marry into it all, which I’m guessing you did.”

Harry glanced at himself, wondering if he looked out of place. “How’d you know?”

The bartender laughed. “You’re about two feet taller than everyone here, for one.”

“Right. You should have been a private eye in another life. I’m not used to this sort of thing.”

“Well, if you want my advice, focus on her. Do, or don’t do, whatever keeps her sane and you’ll survive. Good luck, brother.”

Harry sighed. “Yeah, looks like I’ll need it. Thanks, man.”

“Welcome.”

He was halfway to the table when he realized the bartender had called him Murphy’s husband twice and he hadn’t even flinched. Odd. Scary. Troublesome.

He found Murphy in the arms of her mother when he returned, a fond smile slipping across his lips out of habit alone. For the first time nearly all day, Murphy’s smile was genuine and she looked as if she’d smoothed out some of the issues between them since the last time Harry saw Mama Murphy.

The older woman’s eyes sparkled in recognition, and even more importantly, affection as she spotted Harry over her daughter’s shoulder. “Harry? You’re Karrie’s plus one?”

Harry set the beers down on the table. “I hope that’s not a problem, Mrs. Murphy.”

She shook her head, tugging him into a hug. “Absolutely not. I’m glad to see you again.”

She held his hands for a moment, raking her gaze over him from head to toe. “Don’t you clean up nice?”

Harry coughed. “The jury’s out on that.”

Mama Murphy laughed, nudging her daughter. “You’ve got to get Dottie the wedding photographer to get some glamor shots of him. He’s quite a catch.”

Murphy sighed. “Don’t encourage him, mother.”

Mama Murphy sent her daughter a raised eyebrow. “That blush on your cheeks is doing it for me.”

Harry coughed again, bringing a hand up to cover the smile threatening to spread across his lips. Murphy glared and her mother’s smile widened. “You two, honestly. There’s a running bet on whether or not the next wedding we attend will be—”

“Mother,” Murphy interrupted. “I think Lisa’s calling you.”

Mama Murphy’s lips pursed, but she didn’t scold her. “I’ll see you two in just a little while. Please be on your best behavior.”

The comment was aimed at Murphy, whose face thinned into a frown, so Harry touched her arm, answering for her. “Why would it be otherwise?”

She glided away. Harry pulled out Murphy’s chair and she sat without qualms, too distracted to fuss at him like she usually did. She grabbed the beer and took a long pull as Harry sat.

“So far, so good.”

She lowered the beer from her lips, her blue eyes following her mother’s retreating form. “Mm.”

Harry sipped his beer, his face impassive. “So what kind of odds do you think we’re getting?”

“What?”

He smirked. “She said they were betting on when we’d tie the knot.”

Murphy sputtered mid-swallow, making him chuckle. “I’m sure they’ll drop after I murder you.”

“Is that any way to treat your future husband?” She kicked him in the shin again.

“Karrin?”

Harry glanced up to see the guy he’d designated Mr. Friendly from the Murphy family picnic—the confident, built cop who’d interrogated him after he showed up at the park. He sent Harry a questioning glance, his expression shifting between surprised and confused before switching back to Murphy.

“Hey, Brett,” she said, standing to give him a quick hug. “How’ve you been?”

He shrugged, tugging at his suit jacket as if it were uncomfortable. Harry could sympathize.  “So-so. Gotta admit I was kind of thinking you weren’t gonna show.”

She eyed him. “You put money down on it?”

He grinned. “Like I’d ever bet against you, Karrie.”

She snorted. “Right. This is Harry Dresden.”

Brett extended a hand, which Harry accepted. “Yeah, we’ve met.”

Murphy’s golden eyebrows rose. “You did?”

“The picnic,” Harry told her. “He had me pegged for a pervert.”

“It was an honest mistake. Not many non-perverts wear leather overcoats in Chicago summer weather.”

“Touché.”

Brett nudged Murphy. “You say hi to the bride and groom yet?”

“Not yet.”

Brett’s smirk stretched. “Come get me when you do. Ought to be worthy of Worldstar.”

“Have you ever had a three-inch stiletto lodged in your urethra?”

He chuckled. “Same old Karrie. Stay out of trouble, you two.”

He headed towards the bar. Harry watched him go. “So I guess sarcasm runs in the Murphy family tree?”

She sat, reaching for her beer. “Whatever gave you that idea?”

“Private investigator. You pick up on the subtle nuances of human behavior.”

They drank in companionable silence until Mama Murphy tapped a fork against a wine glass, quieting the room full of over a hundred guests. “Thank you for joining us for the wonderful union of my daughter, Lisa, and her new husband, Rich.”

Applause rippled through the dining hall. Murphy staunchly refused to uncross her arms. “We’re going to have a few words from the maid of honor and best man before we start serving dinner and the couple has their first dance.”

What followed could only be described in Harry’s mind as tooth-rottingly corny dialogue from Lisa’s best friend slash maid of honor, who had clearly gotten into the champagne early because she ended every sentence with a giggle. Rich’s best man regaled them all with horror stories from his experiences in college, including past girlfriends, much to Murphy’s chagrin, and it abruptly ended with him being ushered off the stage as he started a rather inappropriate firsthand account of he and Rich’s threesome. The wait staff passed out everyone’s meals and the music started up, ranging from Ke$ha to Ella Fitzgerald as Harry and Murphy ate their chicken dinners and drank their beers.

“Well, well, well,” a falsely saccharine female voice spoke from behind Murphy’s right shoulder. “You’re looking well, Karrie.”

Lisa stood with her hands on her hips, inches above the miles and miles of fluffy fabric making up her Cinderella-esque wedding dress, her blonde hair pinned in a French bun, wearing what seemed like a pound and a half of makeup and blood-red lipstick.

“You said ‘well’ four times,” Murphy said, slowly rising out of her chair, as did Harry. “Hello, Lisa. Congratulations.”

“Thank you.” Her younger sister’s catty smile expanded as her eyes darted over to all six-feet-nine-inches of Harry. “Nice to see you again, Larry.”

“Harry,” he corrected.

“Right. How long has it been?”

“Couple years.”

“Wow. You must be in love. This might be the longest I’ve seen her keep a man.”

Murphy took one single step forward. Mild panic flooded through Harry. He wrapped his arms around Murphy’s shoulders and drew her back against his chest, locking his elbows so she couldn’t slip free and snap Lisa into two separate pieces. He leaned in until their cheeks touched, lowering his voice to something he hoped was soothing.

“I’m perfectly happy being her captive. Stockholm Syndrome’s already set in. No chance I’d leave now.”

Lisa’s Barbie-esque plastic smile seemed to crack at the corners. “I see. Glad you could join us. At least she’ll have someone to dance with now.”

Harry smiled the most charming, handsome smile he could muster. “You have spinach in your teeth.”

He kissed Murphy’s cheek as Lisa flushed red, grabbing a spoon frantically to check her appearance. “Would you like to dance, honey?”

“Gladly,” Murphy said, her voice just above fuming, and he led her to the dance floor where other couples had already gathered to sway to Frank Sinatra’s seductive crooning. Harry settled his hands on the small of her back, linking his long fingers, while she rested her palms on his lapels, still a bit pink from anger.

“Look at that,” he murmured. “You survived the first round without judo-chopping someone. I think this calls for celebration, don’t you?”

She breathed out hard through her nose. “’Keep a man,’ she says. Like that’s all that matters in life. I’ve fought things that could swallow her in one bite, things that make grown men crap their pants, and she’s looking down on _me_.”

“Well, look at it this way. You get to be the bigger woman.” He paused. “For once.”

Murphy glared, but it didn’t quite hold water as her eyes flashed with challenge. “You really want to make a short joke while my heels are this close to your feet?”

“Sorry. I’ll try to rise above.”

She jabbed him in the ribs with her finger and he chuckled, unknowingly sending rather pleasant vibrations down his chest that reverberated through Murphy’s skin. She’d been trying to ignore the close proximity—especially since Harry’s tuxedo still held the faint scent of whatever fancy cologne Thomas had bought him at some point—but it was essentially fruitless. She hadn’t been held in anyone’s arms in a while, and while Harry was gangly and too tall to be a good match for her, he was a strangely comforting presence. Then again, he always had been. She breathed in his scent and for once, allowed her defenses to drop enough to rest her head against his collarbone and simply sway, listening to Sinatra’s velvety voice until everything but them seemed to fade away.

“Karrin,” he said softly.

She lifted her face to see him inches away, something vulnerable in his gaze, shooting little electric shocks through her belly. His warm breath fell across one side of her cheek and she resisted the urge to close her eyes and erase those last few inches between her lips and his.

“The music stopped.”

She blinked once, twice, the environment around them rushing back inside her ears. “Oh.”

She untangled herself from him and they returned to the table, noticeably avoiding each other’s eyes. Luckily, some of Murphy’s other family members swung by and they were quickly swallowed in casual conversation for the next hour.

Murphy glanced at her watch. “I think we’ve crossed the required hob-knobbing threshold for this shindig. Let’s get the hell out of dodge.”

“Sounds good to me,” Harry said, glancing around. He spotted Lisa in the center of the dance floor, her wedding dress now decorated with various denominations of bills.

“Are you supposed to participate in this tradition? Or can’t you be trusted with something pointy this close to your sister?”

Murphy offered him a wicked smile, fishing a safety pin and a twenty dollar bill out of her tiny purse. “This is the only part of the reception I actually want to participate in.”

“Hence why I asked if you can be trusted. You’re kind of scaring me, Murph.”

“Relax. I won’t hurt her. Much.” She turned and headed for the dance floor. Harry followed dutifully, hoping she could control herself as he saw Rich sidle up next to his new bride and kiss her on the cheek.

“Leaving so soon?” he asked. Harry’s right hand twitched with the urge to disappear down Rich’s throat at the mocking tone he’d directed at his ex-wife.

“Sorry, we can’t stick around. Things to do. Just wanted to give you your parting gift.” Murphy handed Lisa the bill and pin, her smile sweet as sugar.

“You both know where you can stick this.”

Then she turned, looped her arm through Harry’s, and waltzed out of the dining hall.

 

* * *

 

“Thank you.”

Harry glanced over his shoulder at Murphy from where he stood in front of the mirror of his hotel room, undoing his bowtie. “Huh?”

“For coming with me. It was…still rough, but I survived. Not sure if I could have done it being banished at the singles table.”

“Forget it. You’d have done the same thing for me if I…” he hesitated, swallowing. “…had a family.”

“They’d adopt you in a heartbeat, you know. Especially my mother. Practically every time we talk on the phone she asks me about you.”

He shuffled his feet and cleared his throat. “Nice to know I have a fan in the Murphy clan.”

“Yeah. You won quite a few of them over. At this rate, they’ll want you to show up at all the major events.”

“Hey, as long as your mother cooks, I’m in.”

She laughed gently, zipping her suitcase shut, and then walked towards him. He turned instinctively to face her. She gripped the collar of his dress shirt and tugged him down to her height, kissing his cheek. He bumped his forehead against hers, savoring the contact, as it had been a while since he had a quiet moment to enjoy her company without monsters closing in on them. She didn’t shy away. His stomach did a little somersault. It might have been the three or four beers talking, but he had a sudden urge to get closer, to feel the warmth of her skin, to find out if she’d noticed the sudden tension rising in the remaining space between their bodies.

Murphy kissed the side of his jaw, almost as if out of habit, and Harry shuddered. Her lips grazed the edge of his and he tilted his head, catching them in a kiss. He held it for several tantalizing seconds, memorizing the softness, tentatively cupping her chin in one hand. She slid one hand around to the back of his neck, her fingertips grazing his nape, drawing him closer still. A breathy sigh escaped her lips and Harry’s instincts took over.

He bent and caught her around both thighs, lifting her to be level with him. Her legs automatically looped around the small of his back and the hem of her dress bunched at her hips. Harry’s knees went weak and he leaned her up against the wall, licking the inside of her mouth, his hands inching up the supple muscles of her legs until he found her waist. Murphy bit his bottom lip, driving a grunt of pleasure from his throat, rolling her hips against his with hungry anticipation. Her hands busied themselves ripping off his bowtie and undoing the first few buttons to his dress shirt. Harry groaned as she ran her hands across his shoulders, her fingers unbearably hot on his bare skin.

Finally, he tore away from the wall and toppled over onto the bed, cradling her in his lap. Murphy erased the space between them in seconds, her hands shaking to get the rest of the buttons of his shirt undone, panting heavily in between deep, hurried, passionate kisses. Harry’s eyes nearly fluttered closed as she mapped his chest with her palms, starting at his pectorals and trailing them down between his abs, the heel of her hands grazing his belt. He heard the scrape of the leather and the jingle as she unhooked it, and then caught her wrists, forcing his eyes open and breaking from her slightly swollen pink lips.

“Murph,” he whispered hoarsely. “Karrin, are we…doing this? Are you sure?”

She scraped a handful of golden locks out of her eyes, her pupils dilated, looking every bit the goddess Harry considered her to be. She licked her lips, tasting him, trying to think past the heavy fog of lust that had descended over them both.

“I…”

Harry sat up, letting her slip her hands free, his gaze intense from so close. “You what?”

“If you asked me a couple hours ago, I’d calmly tell you that we shouldn’t do anything impulsive. That we should wait and decide where a relationship would go if we started one. But now…” She placed her hands on his shoulders, smoothing the wrinkles out of his shirt.

“Now?”

She swallowed. “I saw what you did for me back there. It was more than pretending to be my date. My sister was right. I haven’t had a relationship—platonic or not—last this long. You’ve been my best friend for years, Harry. More than that, if I’m being honest. I don’t want to lose you, but I also think we might have reached a point where we’re both ready to take the next step.”

He exhaled, wrapping his arms around her waist and leaning her forehead against his. “Karrin, it’s more than a next step that I want. If it was just sex, I think we both would have given in before now. If we do this, promise it won’t be once. You won’t freak out and bail just because it might get tough holding this thing together.”

She smiled wickedly, her eyes sparkling. “Karrin Murphy doesn’t back down from anything.”

He matched it. “Neither does Harry Dresden.”

“Good to know.” She angled her hand between them, slipping it beneath his slacks.

“ _Hell’s bells_ , Karrin,” Harry breathed, his entire body shivering. “That’s just not fair.”  

“All’s fair in love and war, Harry.”

 

FIN

 


	2. Alternate Ending

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An AU of the ending to this fic that's a little more...involved. Karrin's ex-husband decides to have a chat with her and there are some serious consequences. Warning: explicit content. Willing suspension of disbelief required, as it's a bit OOC.

Murphy was not a champagne person. She truly was not. But after seeing Rich’s hand cupping her baby sister’s ass on the dance floor, she needed a reprieve and it was too far to stomp over to the bar for a beer. A helpful (and scared) nearby waiter had provided her with a glass. She’d downed one right on the spot and had taken a second one with her out onto the balcony. The sun had set only a few minutes ago and the trees breathed and swayed with the breeze. She took a few deep breaths and sipped away, the wind cooling her flushed cheeks.

The balcony doors opened and closed. She had hoped it would be Harry, swooping in to cheer her up with that crooked smile and sarcasm, but it wasn’t his heavy footsteps. She smelled his cologne as soon as the door shut behind him and her fingers tightened on the champagne flute.

“You’re missing the party,” Rich drawled, walking up behind her.

“It’s not missing me,” she said tartly, staring out into the garden. 

“Nonsense,” Rich said, tucking his hands into his pockets. “Your boyfriend looks like a lost puppy without you around.”

“He’s not a puppy,” Murphy said, ice thickening over her words. “If you want to find that out for yourself, call him that to his face.”

Rich chuckled. It was a brittle sound she’d hated even before they separated. “He’s loyal, though. I don’t remember the last time I’ve seen you two apart. Is that what you’re into these days, Karrin? Yes Men?”

She finished the champagne and set it on the railing, rounding on him. “This is just typical, isn’t it? You got me here at this fiasco and you still took time out of your busy schedule to try and rub this in my face. Is that what you want? You think I give a shit what you think about me? That never happened to begin with and it sure as hell isn’t about to happen now.”

Rich’s face thinned out in anger. “You just don’t know when to quit, do you?”

“Yes, I do, actually. And that’s never. So go back to your party and leave me the hell alone.”

He pointed a finger at her. “That.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “What?”

“That’s what I see in Lisa and not in you,” he said lowly. “She knows when to lay her guns down. You never did. And that’s why you’re out here and not in there.”

He walked away. Murphy threw the glass at the door and watched it shatter into brilliant shards. She could feel a hollow laugh building in her throat along with a lump. 

Not a second later, the door opened again and this time she was greeted by heavy footsteps. 

“Hey,” Harry said, and then frowned down at the crunch-crunch of glass beneath his dress shoes. “Uh-oh. Let me guess. Rich dropped by to say hello.”

“Harry,” Murphy said, and even to her own ears she sounded exhausted. “Not now. Just…not now.”

Harry’s jaw twitched. “What did he say?”

“Nothing,” she growled, facing the garden again.

“You’re not prone to throwing glassware at things, Murph. So what did the fucktard say to you?”

“Nothing new.”

Harry appeared at her side and held up a fist, making what she was sure he thought was a tough face. “You want I should punch him?”

She snorted in spite of herself. “No, that would prove his point. Just forget it.”

“I don’t know, Murph. These are new shoes. I haven’t broken them in at all. They would really hurt if I broke them off in his stupid ass.”

She choked on a laugh. “Tempting, but I think the rental place would keep your deposit and you need every penny for that hovel you call an apartment.”

“Everyone’s a critic.”

Silence fell for a bit. “Do you want to go back to the hotel?” he asked softly.

She snorted again, running her hands through her hair. “What I want is about ten more beers and to do something very ill-advised.”

“Well, I am a fountain of ill-advised suggestions. Let me know if I can be of any help.”

She glanced up at him then, all the way up into his eyes. He was smiling faintly, but she could tell he meant every word. How long had they been doing this dance? Rich was a bastard, but he was right about one thing. Harry was loyal and he’d been there for her in a way no man ever had. She could probably ask him for the moon and he’d get a ladder and climb his gangly ass up into the night sky to get it. Come to think of it, maybe he could be useful after all…

“Well, there is one thing you could do for me.”

Harry gave a mock bow. “Name it.”

She stepped in close. The champagne racing through her made her stomach feel hot and trembly, but her voice was completely firm as she leaned towards his ear and whispered two words.

“Fuck me.”

Harry absolutely froze.

“Um,” he said, licking his lips. “I…think I misheard you. What was that?”

“You heard right,” Murphy murmured, running her fingers along the nape of his neck and watching him shiver. “I want you to shove me up against that wall over there, pull up this ludicrously expensive dress, and fuck my brains out.”

Harry tilted his face until their eyes met and sighed. “Murphy, you’ve been drinking.”

“So have a lot of people.”

“Murph, you’re not thinking clearly.”

“Do you want me to recite the alphabet backwards to prove I’m not drunk?” she asked, arching an eyebrow. “Maybe stand on one leg?”

He scowled. “I’m not saying you’re drunk. I’m saying you sure as hell wouldn’t have asked me to do that if you hadn’t been drinking.”

“And I’d be an idiot for not asking because I’ve been wanting this for the longest time.”

Harry’s eyes widened. “You have?”

She nodded. “Ever since we took down Mavra. Ever since I saw the way you reacted when Kincaid took off my pants. I know you’ve wanted me the same way, Harry. And I’m angry and frustrated and I’ve been denying it for too long and the only way I can keep even an iota of my sanity is if you take my mind off of all this bullshit. My job, my past relationships, my sister, my family, all of it. Will you do that for me, Harry?” 

He answered her with a kiss.

A fierce kiss filled with the years and years of longing that he’d been keeping inside him until this very moment.

He cupped her chin in his hand, leaning his forehead against hers, his voice raspy and shaking. “Tell me you want me. If you mean it, I promise I’ll do everything I can to make sure you don’t think about anything for a while.”

She kissed his upper lip gently, running the tip of her tongue over the lower one. “I want you, Harry.”

And that was how Murphy ended up against the wall outside of her sister’s wedding reception, her dress bunched up around her hips, Harry’s hand between her legs. 

She dug at his shoulders, his chest, beneath the tuxedo, her lips crushed to his as he kissed her hard, his other hand flat to the wall. He cupped her sex in his long fingers at first, then gently started rubbing along the length of her slit, causing the silk panties to create friction. She made a needy sound against him as pleasure unfurled the longer he kept it up, turning her knees into jelly. He growled softly and slid his hand inside her panties.

Murphy let out a muffled cry as she felt the calloused tips of his fingers stroking over her wet entrance, dipping inside to find her unbearably hot and tight. He ground the heel of his hand into her, grazing her clit, and she hissed, pushing her hips into him harder. 

“God, Murph,” he panted out. “You’re so…hell’s bells…”

Without warning, he sunk to his knees and yanked the panties down her legs, shoving her thighs apart. She hardly had time to react to the abrupt movement because he grabbed her around the waist and scooped her up, propping her legs up on his broad shoulders. Then he licked her.

Slowly.

Murphy’s mouth flew open, but she managed to clap a hand over it just before she let out an impassioned shriek at the tidal wave of pleasure that slammed into her after Harry’s tongue vanished inside her. He clutched her round ass to hold her in place and proceeded to fuck her with his mouth. He lapped and stroked at her inner walls in a rolling rhythm, nipping here and there, growling on every few breaths as he tasted her. Murphy broke into intense shudders all over, one hand clutching his dark, wily hair, the other pressed so hard to her lips that it nearly hurt. Broken gasps of praise slipped between her fingers as he went deeper, pressing into her more, sliding upward to suck her clit into the hot cavern of his mouth. She arched into him more and more, frantic with need. He fed on that desperate energy, sliding one hand between his face and her legs to slip a couple fingers inside her. 

Murphy twisted in his grip and came in a sudden peak, an explosion of pleasure too divine to comprehend. Waves of ecstasy rocked her from head to toe for what felt like several minutes, though she couldn’t tell through the heavy veil of afterglow. 

Harry drew back once he felt her breathing slow and licked his lips clean, his dark eyes glinting in the moonlight, his voice so baritone she nearly didn’t recognize it. “You have no idea how much I’ve wanted to do that to you.”

She laughed hoarsely. “I definitely should have let you a lot sooner than I did.”

He rose to his feet after carefully setting her down (and making sure she didn’t topple over thanks to weak post-orgasm legs) and she yanked him against her again, her hands tearing off his belt and the button to his pants. She was panting by the time she got them unzipped and stuck her hand inside, nearly shouting with joy as she located her prize. Harry nearly collapsed as he felt her slender fingers freeing his cock from the boxer shorts and running the length of it. He propped one hand against the wall, gasping out her name as she stroked him harder, faster, with every passing minute until he knew he couldn’t take any more. 

He grabbed her around the waist and flipped her towards the wall, shoving the hem of the dress up over her lovely backside. She trembled as she heard the slight rustle of foil as he rolled on a condom from his wallet, then nearly melted as he leaned over her shoulder to kiss her neck. He cupped her breasts through the dress, massaging in circles, tweaking the nipples through the bra, sliding his huge hands down her slender frame until he gripped her hips. 

Then he pulled her onto his cock.

Murphy pressed her face into her overlapping arms to muffle an even louder scream of pleasure.

Harry exhaled hotly in her ear and wrapped his arms around her waist in a hug, shuddering as her slippery velvet walls encased nearly all of him. He didn’t say a word, but the way he held her told her everything she needed to know and more. He was here and real and everything she’d never thought that she wanted until this exact second. 

Then, after a long few seconds, he began to move.

Again, Murphy clapped a hand over her mouth to keep the partygoers from hearing her, and her eyes rolled back for a second at the blinding rush of heat streaking through her veins as Harry slid inside her one careful thrust at a time, as if making room. He was a substantial size, bigger by far than any other lover she’d taken in the past, and yet it didn’t feel uncomfortable. Each thrust made a sharp bolt of pleasure flicker up from between her legs and echo through her veins, her nerves, outward to her skin. He was like lightning. She was fucking lightning right now and it was incredible.

His pace increased naturally once she had fully relaxed against him and he folded his tall frame into hers as much as he could, his soft lips sucking her neck. Frantic to have more of her skin touching his, she yanked the straps to the dress down and brought his hand up to cup one breast. He slid it inside the cup and squeezed, played with her nipple, used it like a handle to move her down onto his cock faster. Before long, she felt that familiar tremor sliding up her spine and through her limbs. The world felt runny at the edges. She couldn’t hold on. She was fighting a losing battle.

Sensing her plight, Harry removed his hand from her bra and slid it between her thighs, his fingertips discovering her clit. Murphy cried out and clutched both of his arms, the one pressed to the wall, the other between her legs, helping her reach the release one stroke at a time. 

Harry tilted his face towards her cheek, his mouth finding her ear lobe and sucking gently, his voice like black silk. “Let go, Karrin. I’ve got you. Just let it go.”

He pistoned into her then, his hips crashing against her backside, shoving his cock in deeper, hitting her spot in only a few thrusts. Murphy sobbed out his name and went rigid, coming hard. She rolled her hips in the throes of her climax and Harry couldn’t hold out any longer either. He buried his face in her neck, in her fragrant golden hair, whispering her name like a reverent secret as he came. 

They both stilled and used the wall for strength as they recovered, their breathing and heartbeats in sync. Murphy moved slowly, sliding one hand along Harry’s neck and guiding his face towards hers in a long, grateful kiss.

She smiled. “Thank you.”

Harry’s smile was all kinds of wicked. “My pleasure.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can thank the insidious Patrick_Diomedes for this alternate ending. He and I got to chatting about some Harry/Murphy scenes we'd like to see and this one instantly popped into my head. I apologize if I've offended anyone's sensibilities. This is a bit OOC, but I figured it was worth the risk. Harry/Murphy rough sex FTW. 
> 
> I REGRET NOTHING.
> 
> Except that Peace Talks isn't out yet.
> 
> *throws self on the Harry/Murphy shipper trashpile*

**Author's Note:**

> I know pretty much everyone has their own version of this fic, but I really wanted to focus on the friendship aspect of it before shifting into the shippy parts. Harry and Murphy have such a rich history in their relationship, and it truly would be difficult for her to get through the wedding without Harry there to soothe her from punching her sister or her ex-husband before the whole thing was over. Hope you enjoyed it, and had as much fun picturing them Do the Do as I did.


End file.
